Quality DNA

by Beth Martin

  “I don’t care if he’s making Frankenstein’s monster in his basement. Find the details on the attack against the Genome Database and stop futzing around with this matchmaking bullshit. If the FBI has to let you go from this operation, you’re not going to be able to get your beloved job at the Social Department back.” Rick turned and jogged back toward the parking lot.

  She didn’t have a lot of time. She needed to find out what was going on before Jamie wound up pregnant.

  ··OOO··

  She probably could have learned more about Aiden through the FBI, but she had been too angry with Rick to bring it up. So here she was at the library, trying to find information.

  On this beautiful Saturday afternoon, everyone was enjoying the weather outdoors. There were a few people at the work tables and research stations. They were probably all students getting papers and projects done before the winter break. Irene passed through two shelves of physical books to the bank of workstations. Most information was kept on servers, a few of which were housed in this library which was why it was kept so cold.

  The public computer was old technology and set behind a wall of bulletproof glass. She couldn’t touch it to navigate, but the voice control worked well enough. Even though each computer terminal was set in a semi-private booth, she picked one in the very corner, far away from anyone so she wouldn’t be overheard.

  “What is your inquiry?” the soft computer voice asked.

  “I need all the records for Amir Lazuli,” she said. When she was still employed by the Social Department, she had full access of public information through her device. The FBI wasn’t affording her that same privilege, so she had to dig up information the same way other people did.

  “Searching… searching… searching… These are the records we have for Amir Lazuli.”

  Irene read over the screen. There weren’t many official documents. She saw his medical license, but not his college or medical school degrees. There weren’t any records of his early life. At one point he owned a house in the California bay area. He had a marriage certificate and also a non-contested request for dissolution of that marriage. She wondered why there wasn’t a birth certificate for the baby that died. Wasn’t Aiden/Amir the father? Also notably missing was a certificate of sterilization, meaning he was still free to father a baby with Jamie.

  The last bit of information about Amir was a death certificate. In the police report for the crash, it stated that his car had been found smashed into a tree on a remote highway in Oregon. There were several empty liquor bottles littering the floor boards. His body hadn’t been found in the car, but there was a good amount of blood. No one would have survived that crash. There had been a search of the area, but nothing turned up. When he was still missing a couple months later, the case was closed and Amir was officially pronounced dead. The police claimed a cougar probably removed his body from the crash site.

  It was the perfect setup to get out of his old life and start fresh. There weren’t any records under the name Aiden Stone.

  The only loose end was Amir’s wife. “Search Amy-Marie Lazuli,” she said.

  “Amy-Marie Lazuli, former name for Amy-Marie Baker, born Amy-Marie Park.” Irene looked at the beautiful woman in the profile picture. She resembled Jamie, only older. Her occupation was listed as a news anchor and journalist in Los Angeles.

  Irene quickly lost track of time reading over editorial pieces she had written for the LA Times News. She had a distinctive voice and was insightful and humorous. One piece in particular stood out.

  An unofficial obituary for my husband.

  Many of you knew I was married, and those who did probably also heard me complain about my husband. He was a bit of an egomaniac and a workaholic spending all hours at the hospital. But every minute he spent with me or our son, it was like we were the only things in his world. Our baby was his number one, and I was okay with coming in a close second.

  He died that day of the accident. Not the car wreck in Oregon, but the freak accident that took his son. That day, his entire world ended, and him with it.

  I knew another baby wouldn’t replace what we’d lost, but he didn’t. He became obsessed with finding a way. We tried the legal way with the Social Department and the not-so-legal way of donors for hire. Reversing the effective female sterilization procedure is impossible; I had gotten my only chance. When even the top gynecological surgeon at Grace Hospital confirmed I would never again carry a child, my husband fell into an even deeper despair.

  Sometimes I wonder if things would have turned out differently if I had stayed. But I needed to look after myself. I had also lost a son and needed to heal.

  I like to imagine my husband driving into the sunset, the top down on his car and the wind in his hair. Instead of veering off the road, he drives up above the horizon into the evening sky, straight to the heavens where he can join our son.

  He will be remembered by friends and family this Saturday at the Friendship Funeral Home. I invite you, my readers, not to mourn with us, but to celebrate life. Take a moment to hug your spouse and hold your child close. Tell them again that you love them, even though you already remind them every day. Because no matter what life brings, or doesn’t, it can never take that love away.

  Irene wiped the tears from her cheek. She could feel the woman’s loss through the words on the screen. How would she react if she found out her former husband was still alive?

  After a few deep breaths trying to regain her center, Irene had to remind herself what she was looking for. She scrolled through Amy-Marie’s public documents and found the birth certificate for their son.

  He was a healthy baby, born at just over 8 pounds. Amy-Marie Lazuli was listed as the mother, and Amir Lazuli was listed as her spouse. But the father portion claimed Patrick Tanaka was the biological father. Attached to the birth certificate were the certifications of sterilization for both Amy-Marie and Dr. Tanaka.

  Had they known each other back then, Dr. Tanaka and Aiden? Were they still in touch? Was Dr. Tanaka part of AQD? And why was he the father of Amy-Marie’s baby and not Aiden?

  Irene logged off the library computer and stood up. She shook her head, trying to calm the racing thoughts. If only she could reach out to the Social Department and see where they were on the investigation into Dr. Tanaka.

  ··OOO··

  “Cha cha cherry, set video recorder activation to motion.”

  “Video recorder set,” said the computerized voice. Carefully, Irene placed her device on top of the cabinet above the toilet. She didn’t like the idea of watching Aiden jerk off, but she needed to get a sample if she had any hopes of finding out who he really was. He had been Aiden since the formation of AQD, and Amir before that. With his genetics, she could find who he was before he became Amir.

  At the pharmacy, she had bought collection cups and syringes with the special flexible plastic tip for accurately depositing samples at the cervix. She bought fertility test strips and pregnancy test strips, along with prenatal multivitamins for Jamie. She even found a gentlemen’s magazine. Most men consumed their pornography on their device, but she suspected Aiden didn’t have one.

  Everything needed to make a successful fluid transfer was set up in her bathroom. Once it was done, she had also purchased a virility tester kit to check for the presence of sperm in his seminal fluid. She even removed the trash from the little bathroom waste bin and put in a new liner so she wouldn’t have to dig around old tissues to find the discarded collection cup. And just in case he brought a frozen sample instead of procuring one of his own, she had her device recording to see how he prepared the insemination syringe.

  Irene suspected Aiden lived in the farmhouse above the office. If she got there early enough, she might be able to catch him at home before he left for his daily activities.

  With the bathroom set, she returned to the bedroom. She kissed Jamie, who was still asleep in bed, on the forehead before leaving. Jamie had been touched that Irene went through
all the trouble getting together the collection material. Being a specialty item, the syringes in particular had been hard to find. Irene said it was a way to say sorry for their fight. She didn’t mention the real reason she did it: to collect Aiden’s DNA.

  There was a small chance that this would lead to Jamie getting pregnant, but it was something she had to risk to find answers.

  When she arrived at work, it was still fairly dark out. There was a glow at the horizon, but no sun yet. She checked the time on her watch, seven thirty-two. Her coworkers usually arrived right around eight. Instead of going down through the storm door to the office, she went around to the back door. Some of the lights were on inside and she could see a figure walking around.

  She tapped softly at the door. A moment later, Aiden opened it and let her inside.

  “Well, hello,” he said. He glanced down at his watch. “You’re here early. For a moment I thought I must be running late.”

  “No, you’re not late. I wanted to catch you before you went on your recruitment rounds today.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” he said, gesturing at the old coffee maker which was sputtering as it brewed a pot. “I always make too much.”

  “I would love some,” she said. He poured her a mug and handed it to her. “Thank you.”

  “So why did you need to catch me?” he asked, taking the tie draped over one of the kitchen chairs and tying it around his neck with a slender knot.

  “Jamie’s been monitoring her fertility, and she believes she’s ovulating today.”

  Aiden perked up. “Really? That’s excellent. I have a busy day planned, but I should be able to make time to go over to your place.”

  “We’ve already gotten all the collection materials, but you can bring your own if you prefer.”

  “No, that’s great,” he said. “That saves me a trip to the pharmacy. I better go get my day started.” He opened the door and stepped out, then stopped and turned back to Irene. “When you’re done with your mug, you can just leave it in the sink. If you could lock up when you leave, that would be great. I always leave a spare key under the mat.”

  “Sure,” Irene said. She was used to his genial smile, but she had never seen him quite as happy as he was right now hearing the news that Jamie was ovulating. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.

  She checked the time. It was only seven forty-five. No one else would be at the office for another ten minutes. She could use the time alone to copy more files. After a minute, the roar of the combustion engine in Aiden’s car faded away. She poured the rest of her coffee down the sink and left the mug. Making sure to lock the back door behind her, she went down to the office for more secret work.

  ··OOO··

  When she got home, Irene pulled the photo papers from her blazer and set them on the kitchen counter. She had gotten twenty profiles copied before Sharon had arrived at the office. On the counter, Jamie had left her a note.

  Went to the gallery. Thanks for sending Aiden over. Love, Bunny

  Jamie normally didn’t bother to leave a note. She must have forgiven Irene after their big fight.

  Irene went into the bathroom and checked the little waste bin. Inside sat a used collection cup and syringe. Pulling them out and setting them on the edge of the sink, she wished she had thought to buy gloves. The image of Aiden’s most intimate parts touching her skin disgusted her, and she did her best not to gag. She would just wash her hands really well when she was done.

  Deep inside the cabinet, behind their mundane first aid supplies, hid the virility test kit. She pulled it down, opened the box, and read through the instructions. This kit just had tester strips and didn’t use any device software to read the results. If Aiden’s stuff was any good, the strip would show two purple stripes. The control which would indicate the presence of seminal fluid, and the second which detected the presence of sperm.

  She dipped one end of a strip in some of the fluid which clung to the bottom of the cup. The moisture slowly wicked up the strip until the entire paper was damp. She set it on the sink and glanced at her watch. It could take up to two minutes to read results.

  After two minutes passed, the limp strip was still fully white. Irene double-checked the instructions, the tester was supposed to detect even the smallest amounts. He must have washed out the cup.

  But there was no reason to rinse out the inside of the syringe. With a bit of struggle, she was able to pull the plunger completely out. Taking a new strip, she touched it against the moist end of the plunger. Yet again, two minutes later, the second strip also showed no hint of a purple line. The entire kit must have been a bad batch. Frustrated, she knocked the plastic pieces back into the waste bin and scrubbed her hands.

  Climbing on the toilet, she grabbed her device off of the top of the cabinet. “Cha cha cherry, stop recording. Review recording.” She watched as Jamie went into the bathroom for her morning routine. “Skip ahead.” At first she didn’t see the motion that had prompted her cherry to start recording. The device could see into the bedroom through the reflection of the mirror above the sink. The bedroom door opening had started this segment of recording.

  “I need a drink of water,” Jamie said. There was the sound of footsteps, the clattering of glass, followed by running water. Was Aiden there with her?

  “You ready?” he asked. He was there. This was it.

  “No,” she said. “I need to be warmed up a little first.”

  “We can do that.” What were they talking about? Irene hadn’t paid too much attention the mechanics of insemination from Jamie’s booklet, just the part about how long she had until Jamie would be fertile. She recalled something about basal temperature being important. Maybe that was what they were talking about.

  She kept watching even though there wasn’t any more movement. There must have been some sound the device picked up that she couldn’t hear which kept the recording going.

  Then Jamie came through the door walking backwards. She was holding Aiden’s hands, pulling him with her. She stopped when she reached the bed, but pulled him closer until their bodies met. Irene couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Jamie grabbed the sides of Aiden’s face and kissed him deeply. He slipped a hand under her overalls and reached down between her legs and was met by a moan.

  “Is that what you had in mind?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she answered in another moan. Irene was shocked and disgusted, but couldn’t stop the video. Jamie unclasped her overalls and they dropped to the floor.

  “You know, the whole point is for me to come, not you,” he said.

  She chuckled. “Shut up and make me want it.”

  He pulled her panties down and, in a move Irene had done countless times herself, pushed her onto the bed and buried his face between her legs.

  As Jamie continued to moan, Irene threw her device at the floor. It bounced up against the bathroom door before landing screen down on the floor where it kept playing the sounds of Aiden pleasing her wife. She covered her face as she listened, tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t bear hearing any more. “Skip ahead,” she said, and the moaning stopped.

  She picked up the device. On the screen, Jamie went into the bathroom and pulled out a cup and syringe from the cabinet. She rinsed them quickly and tossed them in the trash before leaving the room.

  Part of her wanted to immediately delete the recording, and part of her wanted to save it and show it to Jamie. No matter what she did, she had already lost her wife to the enemy. She wished she had taken up Agent Rick’s offer to have Jamie ‘removed from the equation’. Maybe she still could.

  “Cha cha cherry, call FBI Agent Richard Elder.” It was a stretch, but maybe it would work.

  “No match found.”

  “Dammit!” she yelled. She picked up the worthless device and dropped it into the toilet. Watching the screen swirl as the device died gave her a little bit of satisfaction.

  Now wasn’t the time to make a rash decision, but she couldn’
t stand to be in the apartment where her wife had fucked someone else just earlier that day. She stormed out of the apartment and got in her car. Without her device, she couldn’t use navigation. That was okay, she knew where the closest bar was.

  ··OOO··

  “Ugh, where am I?” Irene moaned. She rolled over to find she wasn’t alone in bed. A head of curly brown hair lied on the pillow next to her. Had she gotten so drunk that she had picked up a random woman last night?

  Elijah rolled over to look at her. “Hey there, beautiful.”

  Irene sat up with a jerk. “Oh, hell no.”

  “Oh, no no no no,” he said quickly, “We didn’t… we did not. No.”

  Of course they didn’t. She would never voluntarily sleep with a man. “Why were we sleeping in the same bed?”

  Elijah turned to the side and pulled on some pants, then got up and picked up a t-shirt from the floor, putting that on over his undershirt. “It’s the only bed. You insisted on sleeping on the couch. Until you got lonely and said you just needed a warm body.”

  The details of the previous evening started coming back to her. Yet again, Elijah and his friends were at her bar. After a few drinks, she started calling him handsome and insisted he call her beautiful. She had danced with one of his friends, a young woman with red hair who couldn’t have been older than twenty.

  At ten, she had decided to call it a night. She was tired and just wanted the day to be over with. Only after she had walked to her car did she remember that she no longer had a working device. Elijah had offered to give her a ride home, but Irene couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping next to Jamie. Instead, he had called her wife to tell her not to worry and took Irene home with him.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  Elijah poked his device to illuminate the screen. “Uh, seven thirty.”

  “Shit,” she said. “I’m going to be late for work.”

  “Here,” Elijah said, tossing her a bottle of clothing refresher. “Just spray this on your suit. No one will notice you’ve worn the same one two days in a row. Not if you put on a different top.” He pulled a black v-neck shirt off a hanger and tossed it to her as well.